


Liam Becomes Vogil

by Acemindbreaker



Series: Human Familiars [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Branding, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Familiars, Gen, Loss of Identity, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acemindbreaker/pseuds/Acemindbreaker
Summary: A homeless man with strange powers is targeted by a witch looking for a slave.





	1. Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The homeless Liam doesn't know why plants protect him and the alleyway he sleeps in. And he certainly never suspected that the power he doesn't understand might draw unsavory forces to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prequel explaining why she chose him.

Liam awoke in an alleyway. He shifted, his body stiff from sleeping on the ground, and heard the crinkle of the newspapers underneath him. Something was off about the sound, and he opened his eyes and sat up to find that weeds had grown overnight, tangling with the newspapers to create the start of a mattress.

 

This always seemed to happen, and Liam didn’t understand why. Whenever he found a new place to sleep, weeds would grow underneath him, and over the course of several days, he’d end up with a bed of random plants. Liam knew it wasn’t normal, knew it shouldn’t be possible, but nonetheless, it still happened, every time. Even when he’d stayed at homeless shelters, he’d end up with plants growing in the mattress. It was one of the reasons he’d given up on shelters—no one freaked out if the plants grew him a bed in the alley.

 

Looking around, Liam could see more weeds growing all around, lining the walls and clustering at the entrances. If he stayed here, he knew that before long, the weeds would block the entrances and completely cover the walls, leaving only an archway for him to come and go. At that point, no one would interrupt his sleep. People never seemed to be able to find his alley when he was in it.

 

Liam got up and headed out to find himself something to eat. He used his lute to beg for money, earning himself enough for a muffin for lunch and a bag of chips for supper. He’d have liked to get high, if he’d made enough money, but it was a slightly chilly day and everyone seemed to be in a hurry, so he was lucky to have made as much money as he had.

 

As he lay down on the weed-tangled newspapers, looking at the weeds obscuring the gang tags on the wall, he wondered why. Why did strange things follow him around? Why did plants grow wherever he slept? Why did his music always earn him more than the other buskers? Why did trying to lie make him tongue-tied and sick to his stomach? Why was he so strange?

 

 

 

Lilya had been practicing magic for several years, her power steadily growing, but now it had reached a ceiling. From her reading, she knew she’d reached the limit of her innate power. The only way to improve further was to get herself a conduit—a familiar.

 

Animal familiars were traditional, but their power was fairly weak. Lilya had no intention of being a common hedge witch—she wanted true power. And that meant a familiar with magical potential of their own.

 

Which meant she had two options. She could try to find herself a magical creature—a dragon, a unicorn, a faerie, something along those lines, rare and powerful and hard to find. Or, she could take a human familiar. Her book described it as an abomination, a violation of free will, but if that’s what it took to gain the power she craved, Lilya would gladly become a monster.

 

Lilya thought best when she was walking, so she stalked down the street, caring not where she went, her mind abuzz with plans. Her book didn’t have the specifics of how to call a human familiar, but in theory, it wouldn’t be too hard to reconstruct. Many of the magical creature rituals they described involved creatures with minds similar to humans. She could cross-correlate the similarities and differences, and piece together the elements crucial to a human familiar calling. Or she could do a forced bonding, which was the same regardless of the species involved, but the strength of the bond was less.

 

 

 

Lilya turned, intending to cut down an alleyway, but found herself hesitating, then detouring away. She almost wouldn’t have noticed, except for the sudden realization that she could feel power thrumming in the air. She stopped and turned back to the alley.

 

That power—it tasted of spring and green and the wild. She’d never felt anything like it, but she recognized it from her book’s description. Fae. It had to be fae power.

 

But how could a fae live here, in the middle of a city filled with iron? Fae were sickened by iron. It burnt to touch, and extended proximity drained their vitality, eventually killing them. No fae could live here.

 

And indeed, there was another hint to the power, subtle but detectable. Fire, earth and metal. This, she recognized—it was the same taste as her own magic. The taste of humanity. Whoever this magic came from, she could feel human and fae power blended within him. A half-breed, then. A hybrid. Descended from both fae and human. A rare combination, and one with a lot of potential, though the wards on his alleyway were clumsy and unskilled.

 

She had to have him.


	2. Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam wakes up in Lilya's captivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, it was just a oneshot. But just now, I've started work on another story in the same setting (which should be posted in December), and written a prequel to this one. And, inspired by my excited description of the sequel, my Dad wrote a short story of his own in the same setting! So now this is definitely a series.

Liam went to sleep in an alleyway with just a jacket for a blanket and some newspapers for a mattress. When he awoke, his situation had gotten far worse than he’d ever have suspected.

The first thing he was aware of was feeling hot, too hot. Then the sound of clanking, and then something yanked on his arms. He groaned, his mind fuzzy—too fuzzy, like he was high on something, but he didn’t think he’d taken anything? No, he’d barely been able to afford a bag of chips for supper. No way had he gotten high.

The tugging on his arms grew stronger, and he struggled to shake off his confusion, forcing his heavy eyelids open. A cloaked figure was yanking on a chain, and with each yank, he felt his arms get yanked upwards, until it started to hurt.

Liam clumsily got his feet on the ground and stood, so dizzy he’d have fallen if it weren’t for the handcuffs digging into his wrists. He clumsily grabbed for the chain lifting him, holding it to ease the pressure, and struggled to focus on the cloaked figure. “Whaz goin’ on?” He slurred, his voice dry and his mouth feeling odd.

The figure turned to look at him. “Oh, don’t worry. It’ll only hurt for a moment.” To his surprise, the voice was a woman’s voice. Now that he knew to look, he recognized the hint of curves underneath that heavy cloak, the dainty look to the pale hands fastening off the chain.

And then she turned and lifted out a branding iron, just as her words finally sank in. Hurt? It would hurt? “Wha’ you doin’?” Liam asked, frightened.

Ignoring him, she began to chant, the words strange and slippery to his mind. He didn’t know if it was drugs or what, but it was like he couldn’t focus on the way they sounded. And there was a strange echoey overtone, like some ominous special effect from a movie.

She turned back to him, and her eyes were glowing purple. But he had barely a moment to wonder about that. Liam screamed as the hot metal touched the bare skin on the underside of his upper arm, and the burning pain took over all of his senses, spreading up and down his arm.

Laughing eerily, the cloaked woman drew the branding iron away and watched Liam fall against his restraints, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to control his breathing. He felt dizzy, and his vision was fuzzing over, like an old TV with bad reception. His legs twitched, struggling to hold his weight.

She kept chanting, and Liam felt something in the air, like a static charge, except it didn’t make his scruffy blond hair stand up. And then there was a sudden release, and the pain in his arm flared up even stronger, until he lost his tenuous hold on consciousness.

  


When he awoke, he was lying on his back, the cloaked woman leaning over him. He finally glimpsed her face—who would have thought someone so soft and innocent-looking could do something like this? Her face was round and her cheeks were rosy, and there was a kindly look to her, cute rather than beautiful. Her eyes were no longer glowing—if that hadn’t just been a hallucination—instead, they were a deep brown, like a nice warm cup of hot chocolate.

“Are you OK? You fainted.” She asked.

OK? Why was she asking if he was OK? Liam was too confused to answer, so she pulled out a penlight and shone it in his eyes, making him blink. “All right. Your pupils are reacting to light.” She said. “Tell me, Vogil, who do you serve?”

“I serve you, Master.” The words came as a surprise to him—why had he said that?—but then clarity flooded through him. Of course, he served her. She was the Master. He existed to serve her.

Liam shook his head and scrambled back, the movement bringing his dizziness back. What the hell? He didn’t serve her, he didn’t serve anyone! He was his own man, even if it meant starving in the streets! He met her eyes and opened his mouth to give an angry retort, and then hesitated.

“It’s OK, Vogil. No need to be frightened.” Her voice was soft and soothing. Of course, she was right. Why would he be frightened of Master? “Rest, now. I’ll have need of you later.” She rose to her feet as Vogil’s eyes drifted closed.

And then snapped back open as she walked away. No! He was Liam, not Vogil! And she was not... His eyes closed on the sight of her cloak disappearing through the door, and he slept.


End file.
